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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26880007">Untitled</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/anika222/pseuds/anika222'>anika222</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:27:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>728</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26880007</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/anika222/pseuds/anika222</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon Snow is lying on the sofa, but things are a bit different this time.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Untitled</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Baz</strong>
</p><p>Simon Snow is lying on the sofa. It sends my heart racing. It’s been months since he slogged out of the pit of his darkest time and my first thought is <em>no, no, not again</em>.</p><p>It’s 3am and even though I usually sleep through anything, I was suddenly awake and overly aware of Simon’s absence from our room. Cool, quiet, disconcerting.</p><p>I pulled myself out of my half-waking, half-sleeping daze and then out of bed. I padded silently in my bare feet towards the front room where I heard sniffling into the cushions.</p><p>“Snow?” I whisper. The sniffling ceases but he doesn’t move.</p><p>“Simon?” I try again. He turns to look at me, a mix of dried and wet tears lining his cheeks. His eyes are lined red and glassy with sadness. My heart plummets to the bottom of my stomach.</p><p>I sit gingerly on the edge of the sofa next to his back. “Do you want to talk about it?” My voice croaks with the dryness of sleep and disuse. He turns back towards the cushion. I reach out, tentatively, and hover my hand above his arm. I’m not sure if this is allowed.</p><p>“Do you want me to leave you alone?” Fresh tears emerge and gently follow the tracks of their predecessors. Eventually, he shakes his head no. I release the small breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.</p><p>“Can I touch you?” He nods, it’s small and he nods just once, but that’s all the permission I need.</p><p>
  <strong>Simon</strong>
</p><p>Baz shifts and then is laying in the small sliver of sofa available behind me. He presses against me and hot tears flow, taking the place of the cooled and dried tears from earlier. His nose is cool against my neck and I find the familiarity of his perpetual lower body temperature calming. His breath is warm, though. A reminder of the fire and life inside him.</p><p>His arms wrap around me. It’s not long before I want to feel him under my hands. I turn, slowly and clumsily, until I’m facing him.</p><p>His brow is furrowed in concern. I reach out and run my thumb along the bumps and creases he’s created. “It’s okay,” I say, as if I’m not the one crying on the sofa in the middle of the night.</p><p>“Simon-” he whispers. His eyes search mine. I know he’s not going to find what he’s looking for.</p><p>“I’m okay,” I say and it feels at least partly true. “I’m sad but I’m okay.”</p><p>His hand gently strokes outlines up and down my arm. “I love you,” he says, as if I might not know.</p><p>“I know,” I reply. “I know, Baz. I love you.”</p><p>His eyes are still questioning. He doesn’t quite get it. That our love doesn’t fix all of this for me. Our love pushed so many pieces into place for him. I’m still healing. And he loves me anyway. I feel my mouth turn up at the edges in the warmth of knowing this.</p><p>My fingertips catch the edge of his pajama top and I slide my hand between the silkiness of his shirt fabric and the silkiness of his cool skin. His eyes close. He’s absorbing my warmth. I bring my hand to his back and pull him in tight.</p><p>“I love you, Baz, when I’m sad, when I’m happy, when I’m frustrated as fuck.” That last bit wrenches a huffed laugh from him and I smile fully. He meets my gaze.</p><p>“Careful, Snow, that almost sounds like a wedding vow,” he snarks.</p><p>My smile twists into a smirk, even though I’m trying to be careful to not let my secret out. It’s quite a feat with how easily my emotions come to the surface and Baz is an expert at reading them on my face and body.</p><p>I decide distracting him is my best course of action if I want to keep this secret. I pull him in and press my lips softly to his, positive this kiss will taste of salt. He responds hungrily, his tongue asking for entrance that my mouth eagerly provides.</p><p>“Let’s go back to bed,” I say. “This sofa is uncomfortable when there’s a big bed with down bedding just in the other room.”</p><p>Baz’s brow finally smooths out fully and he smiles. “Yes, Simon, let’s go back to bed.”</p>
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